


Time's As Relative As We Make It

by pinegreenapples



Series: Coldflash For A Fortnight [6]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Excessive imagery and lyricism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinegreenapples/pseuds/pinegreenapples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re starting to really grow worried, the last time he was this distant was years ago, after that damn singularity. They’ve tried dropping by his new apartment but Barry never lets them stay long, if they stay then they ask stupid questions and Barry really can’t stand stupidity right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time's As Relative As We Make It

It’s been three months, six days, and twelve hours. Barry’s moved out of the apartment and into another, smaller one with a view of a brick wall. He cooks for himself and goes out shopping like normal. He spends time at the library and park. He’s even been going to work. 

The cops all look at him like he’s porcelain, even Captain Singh hasn’t been yelling as much. 

Barry hates it. He wishes they would just treat him like they did before, he’s not some glass figurine.

Outside of work, Barry doesn’t do much. Sure, he’s started going out again, but he never does anything with friends. Cisco’s called a few times, so has Iris and Caitlin, even Felicity and Oliver, but he just can’t bring himself to do anything. People disgust him and he doubts he could stand being in a restaurant or club too long before throwing up.

They’re starting to really grow worried, the last time he was this distant was years ago, after that damn singularity. They’ve tried dropping by his new apartment but Barry never lets them stay long, if they stay then they ask stupid questions and Barry really can’t stand stupidity right now.

The park’s become his new favorite place. There are plenty of people to watch, all laughing in a way that almost seems disjointed to Barry. Although, maybe laughter’s always been that way and Barry just never noticed until he stopped. 

It’s spring now and everything is blooming in big bursts. Barry notes it all, watching as the daffodils spring up brightly and then recede like a tide. The way the trees turn from bleak outlines to full branches. 

It seems too fast to him, which is hilarious. Something too fast for the man who could run around the world in mere minutes? Barry laughs about it late at night until the tears catch in his throat and make it impossible to do anything but breathe. It sounds harsh and awful, just like that disjointed laughter in the park. When he’s trying not to choke on his own silence, he realizes that’s the first time he’s laughed in over three months. Somehow, that’s funny too and Barry breaks into another peal of warped laughter that feels like a knife in his lung.

***

Three months, eight days, and two hours. Barry’s up at one in the morning, an itch to do  _ something _ . He decides to spend some time running. After all, it’s one of the few things he’s good at and isn’t there something about how depressed people are supposed to do things they’re good at? Barry’s sure it had been in that packet Caitlin gave him along with a list of psychiatrists. After what feels like an hour, Barry stops and finds himself in London. It’s early morning there, people just waking up and getting on with their day. 

Stereotypically, the sky is overcast and looks like Degas got bored with just a canvas and took the sky with his strokes of grey. The clouds swirl with the paintbrush and Barry likes to imagine maybe Degas took grey and painted over the people too because they certainly looked just as washed out as the clouds do.

***

Three months, twelve days, and sixteen hours. Barry’s standing in front of a lake. He’s right on the edge, the water lapping at the toes of his boots. The surface reminds him of a slab of stone, smooth and dark. 

He’s contemplating the mathematical ramifications of skipping a stone across the surface of the lake while he twists a small silver band between his fingers. The band weaves in and out rhythmically between his fingers and he can feel the grooves of engraving in it. 

He stands a few minutes more before his arm stretches backwards as if to throw. He holds the pose, shaking before he drops his arm and falls to his knees.

“Dammit.” Barry whispers, his voice like shattered glass. He sits back on his heels and bites his lip as he stares at the little band. His eyes close briefly and his chest heaves in heavy breaths.

It takes a while but Barry does get up. He shoves the ring in his pocket and walks away, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

***

Three months seventeen days, and five hours. Barry’s back at the park this time. It’s another sunny afternoon in Central but Barry hasn’t seen much in color these days so it doesn’t seem to make a difference to him.

There are two girls playing with a set of figurines in the grass. From what he can tell, it’s the whole original League plus a few notables. Barry watches impassively as the girls squabble over a pair of the action figures. It’s the Green Arrow and Captain Cold figurines. Barry snorts softly at that. Oliver and Len got under each other’s skin like it was their personal job assigned to them. They hated each other to Oa and back and it had been Barry’s job to keep them from killing each other.

Barry looks at the grass after that. It moves slowly in the cool breeze, swaying mesmerizingly. When he looks back up, the girls are gone and the sun is wondering about dipping below the horizon. 

***

Three months, twenty four days, and 12 hours. Barry finally decides to go to a club. When he asks his friends to join him, their relief is palatable. Iris looks so happy, Cisco’s got that gigantic grin, and Caitlin just looks at him with eyes that are entirely too perceptive.

They go to the new club in Central City. It only opened a month ago and the music berates Barry’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. There’s too much movement, too many people, and the heat is slowly squeezing all the air out of Barry’s lungs.

He escapes to the bathroom but it isn’t much better. His nose is assaulted with lemon cleaning product and the lights are blinding compared to the relative darkness of the club. They pulse behind his eyelids in time to the bass that moves through the walls like they aren’t even there.

It’s too much, everyone is too much and Barry can feel the bile rise in his throat. He braces himself against the sink and presses his lips into a thin line. A shuddering breath turns into twenty before he can finally brave the club again.

He summons a smile for his friends and points to a seat at the bar when they beckon him to the floor. Caitlin breaks away and joins Barry. She rummages around in her purse until she extracts a small vial.

“Pour it into any alcoholic drink, it’ll increase the proof and slow your metabolism to let it take.” She presses the vial into his hands and looks at him with those ever observant eyes. “I figured you might need it.”

Barry stares at the vial for a moment before he looks back up at Caitlin. 

“Thanks.” He whispers, a small smile in place. Caitlin just nods before slipping back to the dance floor.

Barry orders several shots of tequila. Each one gets a dash of the concoction and Barry feels it all fade away in a completely different way than the way everything had faded three months, twenty four days, and thirteen hours ago because this time there isn’t anything left, not even that hollow ache.

***

Three months, twenty nine days, and seven hours. The League saves the world again. Another hostile invasion of aliens or something. Barry wouldn’t know, he didn’t go.

The Flash hasn’t been seen on League business for months, the news networks say. Three, to be precise, the snobbish ones correct and then speculate on why. Their theories are incredible and nothing quite so mundane as what Barry is experiencing. It’s ridiculously hysterical how far off they are that Barry can’t help but laugh until his face hurts and his lungs burn and even then his laugh sounds distorted and broken. It’s like it ceased to work when the rest of him started to shut down. He’s just a robot on the edge of collapse with no creator to come along and oil his rusty joints.

***

Four months, two days, and nineteen hours. Barry’s standing at the small unassuming grave far out of the city. He’s holding bluebells, Len’s favorite, if only for the cliche blue theme.

He glares at the granite stone in front of him. The words inscribed are personal and straight from Lisa. The public statue in Central City has all the hero worship and ridiculous sentiment for the public to eat up.

_ A beloved brother who never stopped doing what was right, no matter how tough. _

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” Barry drops the flowers on the ground in front of the grave. “You couldn’t have been less of the hero you claimed you weren’t?”

He crosses his arms and presses his lips together.

“Dammit, two days.  _ Two days _ , Len. That’s all I needed.” Barry squeezed his eyes shut. “You couldn’t have waited for me?”

“I was going to propose!” He yells at the tombstone, bitter tears starting to streak down his face. “Dammit, Len! Two fucking days.”

He collapses to his knees. “I was going to propose, you ass. Why couldn’t you have waited for Bruce to get there? He would’ve been able to stop it, you didn’t have to.” He whispers, hands clasping his elbows. He sniffs and rubs at his eyes.

“I loved you. Still do, and I don’t know how I can do this.” He gave a wet laugh. “I was never any good at managing things without you. I honestly don’t know how I survived without you.”

Barry closed his eyes again as tears began to leak out. “I don’t how I’m  _ going  _ to survive.” He sniffed again and opened his eyes to stare at the epitaph again.

He gently traced the engraved letters. His other hand moved to his pocket and began to fiddle with the silver band.

“I’m going to try, though. I know you’d want that.” Barry sat for a few more minutes before getting up. He stared wistfully at the grave before walking away.

***

Four months, three days, and two hours. Barry walks into work with a small smile and a silver ring strung on necklace placed front and center just below his collarbone. He’s not over it, but he’s getting there. He knows it’ll take time and for once he thinks slowing things down might just be the best approach.

Barry smiles fondly. Len always did tell him to cool it, maybe it’s time he finally listened.


End file.
